Engineers of Greatness
by Iongcat
Summary: As Palaven burned, Primarch Adrien Victus made shocking discoveries about the Krogans, the Rebellions, the SPECTRE, and the Galaxy as a whole. Does not contradict BioWare canon.
1. Summary

**== == Engineers of Greatness == ==**

== A Mass Effect FanFiction ==

**= Summary =**

As Palaven burned, Primarch Adrien Victus made shocking discoveries about the Krogans, the Rebellions, the SPECTRE, and the Galaxy as a whole.

**= Keywords =**

Krogan Rebellion, Genophage, SPECTRE

**= List of Chapters (Ongoing) =**

The Chains of Commanding: Primarch Victus found out what he must know as the Primarch.

The Last Holiday Offer: Warlord Moro arrived on Lusia with his aid Dr. Okeer to negotiate a Treaty of Withdrawal, but was unexpectedly delayed.

The Sun's Anvil: Side story. Jorgal Thurak trudged his way atop a barren peak on Tuchanka to fulfil his Shaman's demand.

**= List of Characters =**

**Adrien Victus:** Turian, Primarch of Palaven, c.a. 2186

**Gatatog Moro:** Krogan Warlord, c.a. 693

**Dr. Joumud Okeer:** Krogan Scientist, c.a. 693

**Matriarch Diralaga: **Asari, Director of High Command, c.a. 693

**Jorgal Kredak:** Krogan Warlord, c.a. 693

**Jorgal Thurak: **Krogan Mercenary, c.a. 2185

**Lokat Piks: **Salarian STG Operative, c.a. 2185

**Erith T'Bor:** Asari Huntress, c.a. 693

**Beelo Gurji:** Salarian STG Operative, c.a. 693

**Dalatrass Heplorn:** Salarian Dalatrass, c.a. 693

**Sibentius Mehrkuri: **Turian Admiral, c.a. 693


	2. The Chains of Commanding

== == Engineers of Greatness == ==

**== Chapter 1: The Chains of Commanding ==**

Primarch Victus found out what he must know as the Primarch.

Year 2186, SSV Normandy SR2, Exodus Cluster

The Human need to lie down to sleep has always puzzled and amused Turians. Turians do not need such extravagance – they simply lock up their muscles and joints until their brains have enjoyed the necessary amount of rest. The Turian word for sleep simply means "extended period of stillness". During this Turian "sleep" their bodies would appear strangely rigid and uncomfortable to the more soft-bodied onlookers such as Humans and Asari, which is just another factoid that cemented the Turians' steely reputation among aliens.

Turians however, take customary pride in this fact. "The only time you will see a Turian's back is when he is dead", it is said, and this refers as much to their famous refusal to flee from any defeat as to their relatively unique sleeping habit. Even Primarch Adrien Victus, a Turian famous for his down-to-earth rationalism and open-mindedness, is not immune to this prevailing nationalistic sentiment. In fact Victus finds it reasonable to believe that the Turians won many a battle because their soldiers can "sleep while they're standing", as the aliens would put it.

But today was an exception. Today Victus felt as utterly exhausted as any squishy amphibian. He longed for a soft cushion under his body, even though his exhaustion was purely mental.

"Spirits grant me strength!" He thought. "Guide me out of this quandary! Attack and defence, casualties and reinforcements, I can understand and manage. But this?" He shut down the virtual reality interface of the information capsule and collapsed the goggles into their slick metallic case, mind still reeling from just witnessing the content within. "I've never been good at this."

"Perhaps the Salarians are correct after all about how our meritocracy promotes everyone to their level of incompetence." He thought. "Just like how the Salarians are correct about so many other things. This is certainly _my_ level of incompetence."

Then he laughed and remembered that he was the _Primarch_, and that there was no supervisor who could demote him in case he was incompetent. _He was all he had._ "We need the Krogan." His own words echoed in his ears. An ancient Human military theorist had summarized that it's the pinnacle of skill to use your enemies to help accomplish your goals. But after this is finished the Krogans would not be enemies anymore. Would that benefit the Turians? Would it be good for the Galaxy? While the strategist in him had always understood the necessity, he had not known how he could morally justify this course of action.

That is until he saw what he just saw in the top secret information capsule exclusively accessible to Turian Primarchs. Copies of the capsule are given only to top ranking members in the Hierarchy, while the Primarch's copy is keyed to his vital signs. Only when he dies will the next Primarch's capsule become accessible. Actually it had been the activation of his capsule that definitively confirmed to him the death of Fedorian, the previous Primarch and a long time colleague and friend.

"I need to pass this information further down the succession line. Vakarian would benefit from knowing this for certain." He thought. "And so help me," he clenched his teeth as he begins to walk, "We'll manage it better _this time_."


	3. The Last Holiday Offer

== == Engineers of Greatness == ==

**== Chapter 2: The Last Holiday Offer ==**

Warlord Moro arrived on Lusia with his aid Dr. Okeer to negotiate a Treaty of Withdrawal, but was unexpectedly delayed.

Year 694, Lusia, Athena Nebula

"This planet is too soft." Overlord Gatagog Moro muttered, as he returned the bows of Krogans he had just passed by. "The whole place feels like a trap." He said while nodding to his aid.

"Planetary data is similar to the dozens of Council worlds we've already annexed, sir." His aid, Dr. Joumud Okeer, answered. Okeer was a bright young lad who had actually studied ecoengineering on one of the Salarian colony worlds – one of those rare Krogans with an intellectual bent. His brilliance had caught the attention of Moro, who chose him as Moro's personal aid. But the lad was still lacking in wisdom and experience, Moro thought - which is a good reason why he brought Okeer along this inspection tour of Lusia's garrison.

"Yes, but unlike those worlds this world is primarily settled by a Council species, namely the Asari." Moro said. "Moreover it is located here in the Asari's home cluster. They have the right to consider our usurpations here an act of war."

"The warning they sent this time is as mildly worded as the previous ones," Okeer said, flipping through a series of holo recordings on his omnitool. "However it was recorded by Matriarch Diralaga herself."

"The old witch!" Moro spat. "If she's involved something sinister must be afoot."

"Statistics would suggest so, sir." Okeer said.

Moro waved a hand suggesting that he had no need to review the holo message – he already knew its content. "And this holiday nonsense - you've been to their worlds. Explain to me this BS."

Okeer dutifully obeyed, pulling up several info pages in the process. "The Asari do not have any yearly holidays of their own, since they are a long-lived species much like us. However, due to foreign cultural interactions they would sometimes observe holidays of other species and cultures. The one they are celebrating right now is a Volus holiday of the winter solstice." He finished.

"And they consider this reason enough to waste _my_ time?" Moro said, his baritone voice resonating with controlled anger. Holidays were an alien concept to Krogans who must survive from day to day.

"No sir. It is much more likely they are using this deliberately as a form of delay tactic." Okeer said, his voice completely calm and even.

"I am beginning to think that all the Council worlds we've colonized are mistakes." Moro sighed. "They are all honey traps to make us soft."

"I don't understand, sir."

Moro looked up, his large purple eyes suddenly glinting with curiosity. "The low gravity in these worlds – don't they make our muscles atrophy? The lack of radiation – doesn't it make our plates softer and thinner?"

"The temporary effects can be nullified and the long term genetic effects are still unclear because of the asymmetry in sample sizes." Okeer said. "However the Asari reproductive parasitism is a huge cause for concern." Moro heard the note of disgust that Okeer was trying to keep out of his voice. Unlike Moro and many other Krogans, Okeer considered the Asari utterly unattractive.

"Yeah yeah, save your academic talk for when you start that First University on Tuchanka." Moro said, his wide mouth grinning even wider. "All I know is that what does not get used often will become weaker and the Council made these concessions just to lull us into complacency."

Okeer appeared completely unabashed. "But you are here to maintain peace, sir, which means that our military prowess and martial spirit will remain untested for even longer. Moreover I'm not sure an academic life suits me – I am no Salarian, sir."

"That you are not." Moro sighed. "And I am not particularly fond of peace, except when I know we cannot win."

"Pardon, sir?"

"We have numbers, morale, discipline, military tradition, and all the other ingredients of victory on our side," Moro said gravely, "but we lack that last crucial element – technology. The Council has complete naval superiority over us and can cut off our Relays at will. Moreover who knows what other kinds of nasty tricks they have up their sleeves. The Salarians have been handing us technologies for centuries to make sure that we know only what they wish us to know. Do you think they're holding nothing back for themselves?"

"No sir. I intended to compile a full report on the Salarians but they wouldn't let me into any of their more militarily-inclined programs. Ecoengineering was as close I could get."

"And you did a good job. Now we have a rough idea on just how far behind we are on genetic engineering, for example. And we are likely to remain that far behind for a very long time – there are just too few Krogans like you, Okeer. Too few."

"I try, sir."

"Well at least I can negotiate this one Treaty of Withdrawal to ensure that peace lasts a little bit longer. Kredak still wants some seriously advantageous terms – a world for a world, he said. But honestly I'd be happy if I can get away with a Hanar urinal." He chuckled – a resigning, self-deprecating sound, unlike the hearty laugh that befits a true Krogan.

"Does Overlord Kredak not agree with your assessment of our chances of victory, sir?" Okeer ventured.

"He does, mostly, but unlike me he sees no way to maintain this peace either. He thinks our population is growing too fast and that war is the only way out. Moreover he wants to test our strength, much like you do."

"But you don't, sir?"

"I don't. Battles always find you if you are strong – there is no need to seek them out."

There was a moment of silence as they reached the end of the garrison and Moro dismissed the local commander with a gesture. The garrison was small by Krogan standards, but the troops were highly disciplined and alert, much to Moro's satisfaction. It pained him that he must order the withdrawal of such troops from such a world but it must be done.

"I'm going to check out the club on the other side of the spaceport. Look around a bit until this holiday nonsense is over." Moro said. Okeer opened his mouth to speak but Moro silenced him with a gesture. "I know you don't like the local entertainment – you are off duty for the next 24 hours and can do whatever your nerds do to relax. And no security drones."

Okeer did not protest. When a Krogan tells you he does not need security drones you accept it - to respond otherwise would be a direct challenge to the Krogan's honour. Moreover the only military presence on this world was Krogan – an elite Jorgal contingent assigned by Overlord Kredak himself. Moro and Kredak may be political rivals but they understood that both of them were indispensible to the Krogan effort. The Asari in their typical laissez-faire nonchalance posted no garrison of their own, a fact which had made the Krogan occupation of Lusia even easier than usual.

"What are the secrets of the Asari?" Okeer wondered as he watched Moro's skycar disappear towards the spaceport, and the Asari civilians everywhere go about their business as if the elite band of Krogan warriors occupying their world was completely invisible. "There must be more to their success than just homewrecking. What is it? Biotics? I hope I'll find out one day." He turned and headed back towards the garrison.


	4. The Sun's Anvil

== == Engineers of Greatness == ==

**== Side Story: The Sun's Anvil ==**

Jorgal Thurak trudged his way atop a barren peak on Tuchanka to fulfil his Shaman's demand.

_Author Note: Unlike the rest of the chapters in this work, this side story is not supposed to be contained in the information capsule of Primarch Victus. Instead it serves as a draft for part of a mission in the Mass Effect Re-Imagined Project. I've included it here because it follows the same theme as this work – that of the Krogans, their Rebellion, the genophage, and their reactions to Salarian intrigue. I hope you enjoy._

Yeah 2185, Tuchanka, Krogan DMZ

Jorgal Thurak cursed as the rock in his right hand broke loose and rolled down the cliff towards the chasm below. Unlike the three other times this happened earlier today, this was a particularly large chunk of rock, almost the size of a varren's head. Losing his grip this way had shifted all his weight onto his three other limbs, which were grabbing onto equally unreliable croppings on the cliff. Meanwhile Aralakh, the unforgiving Tuchanka sun, now reaching its midday ferocity, was baking the rock wall mercilessly, making it scalding hot even for Thurak's gloved fingers.

But the discomfort and danger were not the reasons why Thurak cursed in frustration – Krogans learn to take those for granted from childhood and Thurak, while still young by Krogan standards, was very far from a child. Instead he was cursing the stupid old Shaman who put him up to this pointless task, and the Urdnot Chief who was behind all this quaint illusion of "peace" on Tuchanka. Thurak had returned to Tuchanka expecting to be treated like a hero – he was laden with credits from a wildly successful career in the Blood Pack, and with the recent death of Garm on Omega he was arguably the most powerful Krogan still working for the Blood Pack off world.

Like the other Krogan mercenaries returning to their homeworld recently however, Thurak was surprised and disappointed to find that there were no females lining up with breeding requests, no young Krogans eager to listen to his tales of exploits on other worlds and ready to join him. Instead he was told that the females of all Clans have been gathered in one place, and that he would need to undergo the Rite of Passage once more since he had been off world for decades and had "forgotten the Krogan ways", and that Clan Jorgal was now supposed to "cooperate" with Clan Urdnot to "unite" the Krogans. Only Weyrloc Guld was resisting Urdnot Wrex's master plan, but Guld had been holed up in his stronghold doing who knows what for months. It was even rumoured that he had captured a Salarian and was interrogating him in a hospital. It's as if this whole planet had gone mad and credits suddenly could not buy anything.

"Bring me something worthy from the top of Sun's Anvil," the Jorgal Shaman had said, "You who had left our home world to seek fortune elsewhere – look to find treasures from within." And so he, Thurak, must do it, because the word of a Shaman carries weight. If he was to breed and enjoy the status and power of a Krogan with actual offspring, he must climb this blasted rock on this blasted planet. The Sun's Anvil is a rocky formation near the equator of Tuchanka, close to the Jorgal homeland and overlooking the intersections of several important trade routes. Its height and location had made it a hotspot for contention in Tuchanka's history, and 37 nuclear warheads had been detonated on it during the Krogan Rebellions alone. It was said that the mountain used to be three times its current size until the countless wars eroded it to its current shape. But now, the Urdnot enforced ceasefire had made this rock cold during the night – no artificial fire had blazed its surface for nearly a year. That had made manually climbing it possible, something which had been unthinkable previously for more than a millennium.

All of that history was of no interest whatsoever to Thurak, however. He was here to get the job done, like the Krogan of action he always was. He heaved a deep sigh as he finally reached the top of the mountain – the climb had cost him one and a half days despite Krogans being deceptively fast climbers and Thurak being an exceptionally strong Krogan. He had not brought any food or water because he had accumulated a full hump before he landed on Tuchanka – he had expected to lose weight here, but not from climbing a mountain. A stupid bloody pointless mountain, he thought.

Now for something worthy, he thought. What exactly? The top of the mountain was surprisingly flat, with no grass or any life signs in sight. Would a piece of rock be worthy? What exactly would placate the old fool Shaman? Thurak began to walk steadily in one direction following a search and destroy protocol against an unknown foe, his frustration rising slightly with every passing minute.

Three hours had passed and not a soul was in sight. The cliff side was now far behind him and the sun was dipping towards sunset. Was this the Shaman's plan? To dupe me into starving myself to death on top of this lifeless rock? To get rid of a trouble maker who might threaten the Urdnot master plan of "peace" and "cooperation"? Anger flared within Thurak and he took out his shotgun, loaded, and fired at the cursed rock beneath his feet.

"BAM!"

Then, suddenly, he noticed a glint of light far in front of him to the right. It only happened for a split second before it disappeared but his eyes, sharpened by decades of life spent as an elite mercenary off world, recognized it as the glare of a sniper rifle's scope or some other kind of optimal instrument. A spy, perhaps? Now there is something worthy! A spy captured from atop the sacred Sun's Anvil! His heartbeat and his steps quickened as he crouched low and began dashing towards the direction of the light. He quickly checked his own vision-enhancement goggles and recognized two mirage-like figures in the distance, distorted by the heat emanating from the burning rock surface. They were willowy, un-Krogan. Salarians maybe? Come to spread more poison onto Tuchanka? Oh not today! Worthy or not Jorgal Thurak will catch them and feed them to his varrens so that they never contaminate Krogan soil again!

It was near midnight when Thurak finally reached his destination. Checking his omnitool he realized that he was near the centre of the plateau atop the Sun's Anvil - a place few Krogans had been in millennia. But the Salarians had dared to come here. Here! The corpses of the two dead Salarians at his feet did little to gratify him. They were dead yes but not by his hand, so his thirst for slaughter remained unquenched. Instead they had likely triggered some sort of trap, which meant Thurak had to be extra careful.

He prodded one of the dead Salarians with his foot and recognized the nondescript STG uniform with his night vision. He searched through their bodies carefully but found nothing besides routine scouting equipments. Damn pyjaks! He thought. Who knew what they're planning now. The Salarian bodies had been twisted into odd angles and the air was thick with the smell of ozone, suggesting to Thurak that they died to some sort of Biotic explosion.

It takes Biotics to know Biotics, he thought. He summoned his own Biotic strength and began probing in all directions. First into the air, waist high, then towards the ground. His Biotics were not as refined as a true Battlemaster's but they were reasonably strong and well-practiced from countless battles. Biotics were extremely rare among Krogans and many, including Thurak, had considered it a mark of destiny. But right now it's a tool - a mundane tool to be used like a blind man's stick.

There! He found it. A round, Krogan-sized rock buried in the bedrock not far from where he stood glowed with a faint blue in the dark. His mind filled with foreboding and apprehension as he pushed harder. The glow fluctuated and became stronger. Then Thurak gathered all his Biotic strength and focused on the rock in one crushing strike – the rock glared in a brilliant shade of purple-blue and exploded, showering him with dust and pebbles.

But Thurak did not even flinch. He somehow knew what he would find inside – somehow he always knew. There, at the bottom of a small crater among broken pieces of rock, glittering with a golden metallic glow with six Biotic orbs charged on its side, stood a full sized Krogan war hammer. Except this was not just any war hammer. This was the Hammer of Karlax the First Emperor, the first Krogan to unite Tuchanka in one government and the codifier of the ancient Krogan laws. This was the only Krogan hammer capable of carrying six Biotically charged energy orbs – one for each planet in the Krogan's home system - instead of the usual maximum of two. It was said that Karlax's Hammer would lie sleeping under the ground until Tuchanka's need was most dire, and then the Hammer would return to the hands of the true Heir of Karlax to slay his enemies so he could reunite the Krogan. It was also said the Hammer had a life of its own and would voluntarily destroy Tuchanka's enemies, but would never harm true Krogan. His hand steady but his heart and mind racing, Thurak grabbed the hammer, lifted it up and slammed it down in one swift, fluid motion.

A brittle, almost musical sound like a thousand guitars being broken echoed atop the Sun's Anvil, followed by a triumphant Krogan roar.

Meanwhile in a remote corner of Sur'Kesh's Museum of History, Agent Lokat Piks was making a spirited voice call in the STG code language.

"Of course sir! No Krogan had ever studied Salarian physiology carefully enough to recognize that the bodies had been dead for days, not hours… No, I do not doubt the assessment of our sociology group, I'm sure this will have the intended effect… Sir, sir I'm calling because I've found the original artifact on display right here! In a public museum! It needs to be moved to a secure location… Sir I apologize, I know it's not my call to make… Yes sir. We'll make sure no Krogan ever set foot on Sur'Kesh, sir… No sir, nothing else… Thank…"

He hung up abruptly, grimaced, and walked quickly towards the object of his frustration. There, lying in a steel glass case was the artifact. "Karlax's Hammer", the description vid said, "Hammer of the legendary Krogan First Emperor. Believed to have mystical powers. Tuchanka."

"We spent three and a half a million credits to make a replica of this thing and just left the original here, on public display, just to flaunt our superiority." He thought. "What a stupid thing to do! Why didn't we just give them the real artifact and be done with it? Wasting of tax money and taking unnecessary risks… This way of doing things is going to doom us one day." He walked away.


End file.
